


Distant Like You Asked

by elizabethgraem



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 02:58:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6102562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizabethgraem/pseuds/elizabethgraem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No, not scared, but sad to say the least. My guard fell down, with walls created weak.</p><p>Or</p><p>When Tony falls for Steve and Steve finds out, it doesn't exactly go well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MusicalLuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalLuna/gifts), [JennyThunder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennyThunder/gifts).



> For MusicalLuna because I read through all of her StevexTony fics and it made me want to write, so thank you.
> 
> Also for Danielle, you helped me out a little ways back and I really appreciate it. Also, you love Tony Stark as much as I do, so thank you for filling all of my Tony Stark needs.
> 
> -  
> Basically, Like Pacific's new album just came out and bang! the idea for this disaster came about.

Tony Stark's life sucks. Between fighting for his life every other day and struggling to _not_ melt under the pressure of everything, it's hard to believe that anything can get worse. Not surprisingly though, just that manages to happen within a few months after the Loki mess. Maybe it's because he's insane, maybe it because he's about to sink under the weight on his shoulders and scream from the anxiety the job brings, but, whatever it is, now he's got an absolutely _absurd_ crush on one Captain America, and he's not entirely sure what to do.

In fact, he's not even entirely sure when it happened.

No, he is, he's just not entirely sure why it took him so long to realize it, being a genius and all. 

-

*Three months ago*

"Hey, Tony, thanks for letting us crash here." Natasha says as they all pile into the Tower. One by one, they step out of the elevator, Natasha, Clint, Bruce, and Thor, followed lastly by Steve. Tony makes a small noise in the back of his throat as he stills for a moment while Dum-E and Butterfingers continue cleaning. There's not too much room, as they're all in Tony's lab, the room that is now the top floor where Tony planned on sleeping, as the three floors above had been demolished by the battle.

"Uh, sure, guys, just come on in. I don't mind. Really, not at all, I insist." He mumbles sarcastically as Natasha gives him a quick smirk and wink. Steve walks over and claps him on the back.

"Thanks, Stark. A lot of damage, so I hoped we could stay here. Really, if it's too much trouble, we'll head out." And damn, Steve's got to have the most sincere face he's ever seen. He leaves his hand on Tony's shoulder, his eyes searching, and Tony sighs.

"Fine, but if you touch anything..."

"Got it. Thanks, again." Steve pats Tony once more on the back and heads over to the robots that are still cleaning, trying to help. Tony goes back to what he'd been doing, looking up every once in a while because " _No_ , Clint, you _can't_ use the debris as target practice because you're bored," but it's not until Steve commands that the team start helping with his _don't argue, I'm your captain voice_ that anything actually starts getting done. Tony kind of appreciates having Steve there, although he's loathsome to admit it. Otherwise god knows how long it take to clean this mess.

They all sleep on the floor. Tony only threatens to kick Cap out when he says they should talk about how they're feeling. This is not a girl scout slumber party and, contrary to his old therapists' beliefs, Tony _can_ get by without mentioning the words "feeling" or "emotion" possibly ever.

-

*Ten weeks ago*

"You know, Romanov, if you'd been planning on staying here indefinitely, you could have told me two weeks ago when you brought the whole team over for a sleepover and I would've started just planning your room then." Tony and Natasha were riding up the elevator after a long day of city clean up. Tony's day had been split between planning out the city reconstruction with contractors, visiting families that had been devastated by the battle as the Iron Man (Steve's idea - "the kids will love it"), and helping move and remove pieces of destroyed building, fallen power lines, and wrecked cars from the street. He was ready to go to his lab and work, alone, for the next few hours, give or take twenty.

But wait, his lab was destroyed, the rest of the Avengers would be there any minute, and there was nothing he could do.

"Actually, crashing here hadn't been my idea." She responded, unaware of the breakdown he was so close to having. With the team stuck in his lab, as soon as he was back to the Tower, he had no distractions. Sure, the jokes and pranks were fun, but they couldn't keep his mind from going to the fight.

"What do you mean?" Tony asked, looking directly at her, chin jutted out.

"Steve's idea. Thought it'd be a good idea to get in some team bonding after that whole ordeal. Also, some people on the team don't exactly take the best care of themselves." She said, side-eyeing Tony, mouth twitching up into a one-sided grin. Tony gasped, putting a hand over the arc reactor.

"I am wounded. I take care of myself!"

"Yeah, sure you do, Stark.

They arrived to Tony's lab, now clean. Well, relatively clean. Tony's workshop was constantly cluttered. Random post-its stuck to everything as Tony got a new idea in the midst of working, coffee mugs littered the floor, tools lay about, parts of a suit lay scattered from the last time Tony tried testing the new mark. There was a space cleared for six air mattresses on the floor, but even that area was littered by socks and glasses holding a variety of liquids.

Steve like to constantly remind Tony "A cluttered work space leads to a cluttered mind." Tony always spat back the same "But what would an empty work space mean?" but he didn't really mind. Tony did just fine without organization and if Steve didn't agree, he could clean up himself, which he did. At first, Tony yelled at him for moving his stuff, but when Tony stepped on a mug that rolled under his feet, nearly leading to his bashing his head off the corner of a bench, he stopped arguing.

Soon enough, everyone was back to the lab, Thor talking animatedly, while Bruce grabbed a shirt, and Clint was arguing with Steve that, technically, he just saved the city. He shouldn't have to clean up, too.

Tony took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself. He was going to start freaking out if Clint mentioned space robots one more time.

"And I mean, the damn things are so heavy! How do they fly? Are they half alive? We can't manage hover boards, but they've got personalized flying scooters!" He turned to face Tony. "Hey, Stark, you should see if you can get them flying again. Make clean up that much-"

"Enough, Clint!" Steve exclaimed, looking at Tony's face. Clint froze, as did everyone else. "Sorry, Ton-"

"Nope. No, it's fine. All good. Great. You know what? I've got the structure up of the next three floors. Walls and everything are all up. I'm adding to the Tower. Y'know? You guys will have your own rooms, Bruce, a lab, there'll be a gym, too. You'll like that Steve." Tony's eyes were flitting nervously from one person to the next, all too stunned to speak, so Tony just kept rambling. "You could all move your stuff up to the next floor. A lot more spacious. Mainly because there's nothing there yet, because it was just built, because it was destroyed, because of us, becau-"

"Tony!" Tony looked to Bruce before walking towards the helmet of his suit, picking it up and staring for a minute. He then proceeded to gather the rest of the pieces, placing them on the work bench.

"Yeah, there'll be more room for everyone on the next floor." Tony said, the cue finally snapping everyone back.

"Let's bring stuff up, guys." Steve ushered. Even Thor was silent as they each grabbed a blow up bed and their bag of belongings, heading to the elevator. 

Hearing the door close, Tony let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding before slumping, leaning against the edge of a table and resting his head in his hands. He'd give himself five seconds.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

"Jarvis, open the plans for Mark ei-"

"Hey, Tony." Tony turned around slowly, giving himself time to put on a mask, as he certainly couldn't show the face that'd just been so close to melting. At least, that's what it felt like to Tony. It felt like the weight of everything was hanging on each feature, pulling and pulling until his mouth became a deep frown and the bags under his eyes had bags of their own.

"Hey, Cap." He drawled. "Just doing some work on the new suit. A lot easier when it's quiet." He tried for a short laugh, but it came out harsh, sticking in his throat.

"You should probably get some sleep. It's been a long day and it's just going to drag on tomo-" Tony felt his body deflate at the reminder that there was a tomorrow, and a day after that, and one after that, and after that, and presumably more after that. But you could never be sure when something else was going to fall out of the sky, or when he was going to have to fly into the next wormhole. 

His chest tightened at the thought.

"I'm good, Cap, really. Just gonna get in a couple hours."

"Stark, c'mo-"

"Don't ' _c'mon_ ' me. I haven't gotten anything done. I can't focus because on the rare occasion that it's actually quiet in here, it just feels cold and dark and I can't breathe, so no, don't tell me to go upstairs, _Captain_ , because I've taken care of myself long enough without anyone else. As a matter of fact, I'm the only one that's ever really taken care of me, so don't come into _my house_ and act like I have to abide by _your rules_ when I am _clearly_ doing just fine following my own." 

Steve just stared at him for a moment before muttering a calm, reserved "okay."

And Tony just started laughing.

It was that kind of hysterical laughter where you know if you stop, you'll cry, but as it is, you feel like you're right on the edge of crying. And Steve just left. Just walked out and left, of course, because what else are people going to do? Why should anyone care to listen to him? His father hadn't whenever Tony tried to show him a new project, like when he'd put together his first car at seven. Rhodey hadn't when Tony had told him that no, the military can't have the suit, they'll abuse it, unless something goes wrong first. Both had happened. Pepper hadn't when he stayed up for days at a time because he just had to get this _damn_ suit done. Why on earth would Steve?

-

*Two months ago*

Tony groaned as he collided with the wall, again. New suits, same problems.

"Ouch! I felt that one from here. You okay Tony?" Steve asked, stepping out of the elevator.

"Peachy." He responded, pushing himself up from the floor.

"Team's going out for dinner. You coming?" The blond asked, eyebrows raising a bit.

"Nah, I've got to get this fixed. Maybe next time." The mask came up as he spoke and he saw Steve's head tilt to the side. "Something upsetting you?" He asked, watching long strides carry the super soldier toward the plans that lay spread over the tables. 

"No, but you've been working on Mark 8 for two weeks. I don't think I've ever seen you work that slow." Steve sent a joking smile to Tony who was walking quickly toward Steve. Tony found it was much easier to be around Steve once the forties man finally got used to the sarcasm that never stopped spilling from his lips. It was even better when Steve had finally started using that same mocking tone when responding. Somehow, Steve had become the only one that could _sometimes_ manage a more sarcastic remark than the genius.

"Uh, yeah, just the, uh, same damn problems, y'know. Just keep hitting the wall." A small, nervous laugh escaped his mouth as he reached for the suit plans, flipping through them in attempt to hide them from Steve.

"Woah, wait, Tony, put those down," he said, looking at Tony pointedly. Tony continued shuffling the papers.

"What? No, on second hand, maybe dinner's a good idea. It's been a goof thir-"

"Tony." It wasn't a request, it was a demand, and the brunette put the specs down with a sigh. Steve flipped through the plans almost angrily, throwing them to his feet after looking each one over until he found what he was looking for. "Mark..." His voice faded before he looked at Tony expectantly, as though waiting for an explanation. Tony averted his eyes, tilting his head back and forth, biting his cheek as he decided what to say.

"Wel-" but Tony was cut off before he could really start.

"No, I don't want excuses. Mark 13, Tony? Really? It's been a month. How much sleep have you been getting? Have you been eating? Tony, damnit, come on!" A fist slammed against the table and Tony jumped, eyes widening. No longer focused or working, he'd begun to fall asleep. He smirked.

"Does coffee count as eating? Because I've been having like seven cups a da-"

"Tony, this is not a joke. You're a part of this team and I am in charge of you. You have to be taking care of yourself! You can't just-" Tony's face turned red as he found himself suddenly furious.

"Why? Why is this so important? So you look good to everyone? Because you've got to be fucking perfect? Is it because you've got such of a wreck of a teammate that you've got to make up for it by at least being able to say that you've _tried_ do fix him? Huh? Tell me! Why is this so _damn_ important to you?" Every word was spat from his mouth, as though flames trailed behind each one, leaving a burnt taste in his mouth. He remembered how this went last time. He was just waiting for the inevitable walk-out. Steve turned, walking to the elevator and stepping in as it opened.

"Main floor, JARVIS." Steve snapped. Tony waited, half-hoping he wasn't going to go, he wasn't going to leave Tony alone like everyone else. He hoped that something had changed, felt like something had changed in their dynamic. It wasn't just teammate/teammate anymore, it was friend/friend, right? He didn't want the words that had just escaped his lips to be true. He watched the doors close. Steve left with the elevator.

"Fucking knew it..." Tony mumbled to himself, but it was more disappointed than gloating. He went back to the suit.

Ten minutes passed and he heard the elevator open up. Tony hid his face in attempt to keep whoever came in from seeing the frustrated, angry tear marks running lines down his cheeks. He winced as he saw a large hand in his peripherals reach out to grab pieces of the broken glass Tony had thrown. "What?!" He sneers sardonically, almost cruelly, but in no way cruel to the other man who he could feel boring holes into the back of his head. "Did you expect me to follow you up? Join you and the team for a nice night out while _something_ is probably out there _waiting_?"

He feels his eyes begin to burn again and his nostrils flare as he looks up, trying to keep tears from falling. He shouldn't be crying.

Steve's voice is gentle when he speaks next.

"Tony, it's important to me that you take care of yourself because you're important to me." He heard footsteps approaching behind him and his chest tightened, but it's not the same feeling he gets when anxiety tenses his shoulder and drowns him from the inside. It's almost pleasant, but still a choking sensation like he can't breathe. It only gets worse as the proximity between the two men decreases. His eyes close.

"Tony." Steve's hand lands on his shoulder, and, thinking back, this is it. This is when he fights a shiver, when he he has to remind himself to keep breathing, when things crack and mend, his heart included, and he can't tell which one happens first and which one is final.

Eyes opening, he turns to face his worried friend. His heart clenches at the word and, at the time, he's not really sure why. 

Blue meets brown and Tony looks down, unable to look at Steve's face, worry filling each and every crevice and pore.

"You're going to miss dinner." Is all he can think to say. It's not exactly the most important observation he could make at the time, but there's no other words he can form. If he tries anything else, he knows everything will come tumbling out, the _I'm sorry_ s and the _you didn't leave me_ and the _your eyes look beautiful_ and, for some reason, the latter seems like the most dangerous of them all.

"Yeah, they're already gone." Steve's eyes drop and only then does Tony notice the plate in his hand with two sandwiches on it. Steve jerks his head back toward the elevator and lets a small, shy smile appear on his lips. "How do you feel about dinner and a movie?"

Tony nods his head slowly, suddenly completely exhausted by the day's events. He shuffles to the elevator with Steve beside him, practically leaning on him the whole trip to the next floor, ready to sink to the floor and sleep.

Steve practically carries Tony to the new couch, part of the finally decorated common room two floors above his workshop.

By gentle nudges and quiet coughs, Steve manages to keep Tony awake long enough to eat his sandwich and drink a glass of water. He's passed out before Luke even discovers the hidden message within R2-D2, his last thought: _he stayed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Tony still lived in Malibu at this point, because it's before Iron Man 3, but just work with me here. I am a horrible person, and I will completely avoid canon when it doesn't work with me. (Not really, but, like I said, just bear with me here.)
> 
> Also, I know, you're probably like "what? Tony couldn't already be on mark thirteen when he was on mark eight two weeks ago!"
> 
> Correction, according to the timeline, Tony completed, on average, six suits per month.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this chapter is worse than the last one, oh my god. It makes no sense and everything is just wow, but I am absolutely exhausted, so it will have to do. I am so sorry.

*Six weeks ago*

Tony gasps as Steve steps out of the elevator and into the lab, two cups of coffee in his hands.

"Oh, Steve, you shouldn't have!" With quick steps, Tony reaches the liquid carrying savior, spreading his fingers over the warmth emanating from the mug. He breathes in deeply, taking in the warm roast smell. As he takes a step away from Steve, Steve clears his throat and the shorter man turns back to him.

"I heard you sprinting to the lab before I left for my run this morning and, judging by the look on your face, I'm going to guess that I was right when I'd figured that you never waited in the kitchen for your first cup to finish brewing. So, there is your black "wake-up" cup and here," Steve paused to hand tony the second cup, "is your milk and two spoonfuls of sugar." Tony stood there, both cups in hand, staring at Steve.

"Look at this, Steve, you've got me speechless."

"Well there's a first for everything." A goofy smile made it's way onto each face, both smiles slightly mocking.

"Did I ever tell you you're my favorite person?" Tony asked, laughing, but not kidding in the slightest.

"You just love me for the coffee."

"Only, like, 63% true, if I'm doing the calculations right, which I always do." Steve rolled his eyes at the cocky comment.

"So, what're we working on today, Stark?"

"Well, Rogers, this thing," he nodded to the plans that JARVIS was displaying as he set down a coffee and picked up his tablet, "is going to be stealth, and you are, once again, sitting on that stool listening to me ramble on until noon, when you yell at me to go eat lunch."

The military man sent a mock salute in Tony's direction, smiling, and just that happened. Steve handed the man the occasional wrench and seldom hand, which Tony hated. ("I've worked on my own for forty years, let me do my own work" and groaning to be overly dramatic while Steve smiles and prevents the helmet from snapping shut on Tony's hand).

Every once in a while, when Tony was particularly focused or when Steve told Tony to stop talking for a minute before he got dizzy, there'd be a silence, but never uncomfortable and never unwanted.

Some days, when Steve could force Tony away from his work or Tony made a reference to something Steve didn't understand, they'd break routine and walk around the city or Tony would show Steve his favorite parts of New York and vice versa. Steve loved seeing the rooftop city views that Tony had discovered in the suit and, for some odd reason, Tony absolutely loved going to the old movie theater Steve went to before the war, before the serum, before the ice. They'd push open the doors and sit in the dust covered seats and Steve would laugh as Tony sneezed four, five times in a row before telling Tony about the movies they used to play.

One day, Tony found himself at the Met. Even crazier, it wasn't for some party or gala. Somehow crazier, he was enjoying himself. He had a feeling it had something to do with the entranced man beside him. He wasn't entirely sure what, but something. He only ever had this much fun doing stuff with Steve. It didn't matter what they did, the day always ended with a smile on his face. Well, usually.

Every once in awhile, when Tony was having a particularly bad day, he'd take it out on whoever was closest, who usually happened to be Steve.

"Ready for lunch?" Steve would ask, eyes lifting from his drawing to Tony, who was writing fast enough to give a person whiplash.

"Lunch? No, Steve, I need to finish this. I can't- I can't just go off. This needs to be done. Steve, I can't just- Not when- Something's coming and I don't- It's not-"

"Tony, it'll be fine. Just come eat lunch. It'll be _fine_."

"Fine? It's fine? What do you mean? There's no time for 'fine'! It's- It's not- It-" Tony stopped, had to, for he couldn't breathe. His chest had frozen and all around him was dark and cold and _oh god, is he going to die here? In this wormhole? He can't even get ahold of Pepper. How are they going to tell her that he's dead. She's been his best friend for god knows how long. How will they break it to her that he's..._

As Tony fought to breathe, Steve situated himself in front of Tony, bending over a bit to be at a lower level than Tony's eyes, which had closed.

 _Goodbye._ He watched the bomb explode behind his eyelids and felt himself fallin-

His eyes open and his body convulsed with a shiver when someone touched his shoulder lightly.

He struck out his fist, but Steve had expected it. They'd been through this far too many times for him to expect Tony not to lash out. The first time this had happened, he grabbed Tony's shoulders hard, about to shake him out of it. If Steve was normal, he would've had a black eye for days. That was a couple weeks ago and Steve hadn't forgotten it. He didn't think he would ever, _could_ ever , forget the look of sheer terror on his friend's face. Steve dodged and watched as Tony realized where he was. Tony took a moment to breathe, glancing at his surrounding, eyes going back and forth. He touched his chest, hand on the arc reactor, before finally looking at Steve, who rose to stand at full height.

"Tony, don-"

"Sorry. I've been trying, I know you want me to-" The words left his lips like a reflex and Steve just sighed, a look of pity on his face. Tony went back to work, hands touching everything, restless.

"Tony, you don't have to apologize. I get it. 70 years as a popsicle, remember? I know the feeling." Tony nodded his head, not hearing all of what Steve had to say. All he could think of was how horrible he'd been to the captain once they'd met. Steve would insist they'd just egged each other on, but Tony couldn't imagine how he'd been so awful when Cap was going through what must have been an absolutely horrendous time. Everyone was dead, and he'd just come back from the dead himself.

"Tony." He was brought from his thoughts as Steve said his name. It sounded almost soft coming from his mouth, as though Tony was something that should be cared for, protected. As though he wasn't all deserved self-deprecation and cynicism, with a side of genius and narcissism.

At this point, Steve's the only one that can really calm Tony down when he gets himself worked up. He always manages to know what to say and just how to say it. Maybe it's because they're oddly alike, despite their drastic differences. Steve always took care of him.

Somehow Steve, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes and yawning, stumbling around in just his boxers (no, Tony doesn't catch himself staring sometimes and _no_ he most certainly does not find the sight adorable in the slightest) always manged to find Tony down in his shop at the most ungodly hours, Tony coming down after finding himself unable to sleep or unable to do so without nightmares. Tony's not entirely sure how, maybe it's that mother's sixth sense that people seem to talk about, as Steve's quite the mother bear when it comes to the team, but often, he'll find himself waking up in his own bed in the morning.

On occasion, Steve will be in there, too, crashing on the couch.

"Hey, you two. Looking kind of tired." Clint says one morning with a wink as they step into the kitchen. The bastard.

"Yeah, we were up most of the night." Steve responds, not quite getting Clint's tone of voice.

"You know, Barton, it's a good thing it's so early." And despite his joking tone, Tony's kind of irritated, mostly because he realizes that he kind of wants to stay up with Steve all night, even if they're just doing. Especially if they're doing that. No, it's just the suggestion.

"Stark, you know I'd kick your ass."

"Not in my Tower you wouldn't."

"So, who's getting threatened now? And so early? Must be a special event." Natasha said, wandering into the room. 

"Stark thinks he could kick my ass." Clint responded, smirking.

"Well, Barton, considering you'd be fighting the building itself, I don't think you've got too much of a chance. Outside, however, he'd destroy you, Stark, and you know it. However, I think we all know that I would definitely kill both of you." Natasha said nonchalantly. Neither of the two men responded. They both knew that she could and would _kill_ them. Possibly at the same time.

"Oh, please. No fighting. This place just got built. I should've stayed in India." Bruce muttered, meandering in and taking one of the mugs of coffee Steve had been preparing as he listened to the sardonic remarks being barked back and forth.

"Looks like you're in the wrong place, Banner." Steve told him, handing a mug to Tony.

It was the incessant little comments like those from Clint and Natasha, and how much he adored every little smile, each one practically glowing, that appeared when he and Steve were together. It was the sudden desire to be constantly closer, regardless of whether they were in their rooms, floors apart, or sitting squished together on the couch watching a movie during a marathon with the team, that edged him toward the realization that maybe, just maybe, he cared for Steve as a little more than a friend.

-

*Present*

"So, Tony, what are we up to today?" Steve clapped Tony on the back, as always, and Tony hates the motion because it's just so Steve and therefore he absolutely adores it. Damn it.

"Eh, I was just going to get some work done. Maybe tomorrow though, Cap." Tony said, rushing around the workshop in attempt to subtly avoid the man chasing him around tables and armor. Eventually Steve stopped walking and just stood there with his hands at his sides. "C'mon, Tony, it's been a while. If I ask, I know you'll say it's not true, but I feel like you've been kind of avoiding me." Tony opened his mouth to argue, but Steve cut him off, putting a hand out, as if to physically stop Tony from speaking. "Like you are right now."

Alright, so maybe he wasn't being so subtle. It's the thought that counts though, right? An "E" for effort and such?

"Well, how about to start off, you grab me breakfast?" Tony asked in an attempt to get Steve out. The blond simply sighed, looking at Tony, and Tony just wanted to get back to working because if Steve kept looking at him like that, he was a lost cause.

"Well, you see, I'm really close to finishing Mark 21. If I can just figure out the calculations, this thing'll be able to make it to higher altitudes and it'll be more capable against harsher climates. Sorry, Rogers. Gotta get this done. Duty calls." Tony sent a quick wink in Steve's direction, hoping that he would leave it at that, but, unfortunately, no such luck.

"Or," Steve began, "we can go out and grab breakfast together like we used to. Stark, you've been acting oddly for weeks. What's up?"

"What's up, is these suits aren't going to make themselves." Tony said, bent over, focusing intently (or not at all, but same difference) on the palm, as though staring at it would help him solve his Captain America dilemma. Steve rolled his eyes, but furrowed his eyebrows, worried.

"Fine. What kind of eggs do you want?"

"Surprise me."

"Fried it is." Steve sent one last hesitant smile toward Tony before walking to the elevator. Tony tried his best to keep from imploding before Steve left. The elevator closed and started moving. Tony let out a breath.

"JARVIS, lock down the lab." Tony said. If Steve refused to stay out, he had a way to make him.

"Sir, I don't think that's advisable." JARVIS said, but still he listened, and soon enough, the AI was informing him that Mr. Rogers would not be coming back in. The genius rubbed his face, hands rough against his skin, groaning.

"JARVIS, what on earth am I going to do."

"Well, sir, I would suggest that you tell Mr. Rogers how you feel, but that would be too simple, wouldn't it?" JARVIS responded snarkily.

"Well, there's the problem, J, it _isn't_ that simple. He's kind of old-school, if you hadn't noticed."

"I noticed, sir."

"Don't be smart, but anyway-"

"That's my job, sir."

"Damn, I programmed you well. _Any_ way, this type of thing wasn't exactly accepted back then, so I'm not too sure that he'll react so wel-" A pounding on the door had Tony choking on his words so fast, he thought he'd swallowed them. The walls were reinforced, there was no way Steve had heard him, super soldier though he was, because he was what they'd been designed to withstand as soon as he'd found out the team was staying here. 

"Sir, Mr. Rogers is requesting that I open a voice call." JARVIS said, voice sounding almost smug.

"Do it, but send him my answering machine and open the video up. I want to see his reaction." Tony smirked, listening to the AI voice out the "Tony Stark is out flying the suit that probably saved your life. Please leave a message after the tone." Before a long _beeeeeep_. For some reason, Steve looks less than amused, his expression half worried, half aggravated.

"Tony, come on, let me in." 

"Weird, don't you usually use the elevator to come down here?" Tony asked.

"Yeah, but for some reason, the button for this floor wasn't working. Any idea why?" Steve's voice has an accusatory tone and his face shows that he knows Tony is anything but innocent in this.

"Hmm, I don't know. I'll have to work on it. Might take a few days though. Maybe I should put the place on lock down so I can focus." Tony was pressing every one of Steve's buttons, but it was either that, or confess that he's got a ridiculous school-boy crush on his captain and was, as always, hiding from it. He thought the former sounded like the better option.

"Tony, open the damn door."

Tony faked a gasp. "Watch your language, captain!"

"Tony, I will break this down. Do you really want to rebuild again?" Again. Again. Rebuild again. Chitauri. Rebuild. _Oh god_. Everything was closing in on him again and everything was fine just moments ago and _whathowwhy_. 

"Tony, don't make me grab my shield. I will be back down here in two minutes banging down this door if you don't open it. I will bright this thing to the floor with a bang."

 _Bang!_ The explosion. It happened again and again and he saw it over and over, darkness, and then a brightness that brought with it such an intense warmth, he could feel it through the suit. He didn't know why it was hitting him so hard, but maybe that was because he couldn't really think about it at the moment. _Bang! Bang! Bang!_ and Tony was floating down, down, falling, the force of the explosion negating the lack of gravity.

Without a response from the other end, Steve grew worried once again.

"Tony? Tony? Tony, answer me, where are you, pal?" But he most certainly wasn't there. He was flying over the ocean with a bomb on his back.

_"I've got a nuke coming in, it's gonna blow in less than a minute." The words were rushed as though their force would push him faster. Once he was right behind it, his voice slowed, trailed behind him. It was just him at this point, this was his job. Why wouldn't he be speaking to himself?_

_"Stark, you know that's a one way trip." The voice on the other end was slow and calculated, as though there was something else they could do, they just had to figure it out._

_"Save the rest for the turn, J." Steve wasn't really there anymore. Hadn't been there since he made the decision._

_"Sir, shall I try Miss Potts?" Jarvis spoke, his voice somehow solemn._

_After a slight pause, he spoke, accepting his fate. "Might as well."_

_He continued with the nuke, flying over the city, racing against time. His face was open, terror showing through the usually well masked features. There was no one here to see him now._

_All of a sudden everything was cold and dark and there was just_ nothing _. The only sound was of JARVIS, informing him of his inability to say goodbye to the closest person he'd ever had to family. Perhaps it was for the best. He'd never been the best with goodbyes._

"Stark!" Natasha's shout over the intercom surprised him. JARVIS had died and there shouldn't be light. Not anymore. Had he died?

But no, the banging on the wall wasn't a bomb and JARVIS was here and he wasn't alone.

"I'm fine." He responded, but it wasn't really a response. It was a mantra, something he repeated time and time again to everyone, regardless to how not fine he might have been. He said it to his family, his friends, his enemies, even himself, thinking that, perhaps, if he said it enough, it'd become truth.

So far, no such luck. In fact, it might just have the opposite effect.

"Stark, let us in, come on." The banging was stopped and Steve was now pleading.

"No, no, I'm fine. I just need some time on my own, I think. It's been awhile since my last breakdown. I think I just had it coming." Tony forced a laugh. "I'm fine." He repeated, but it was mumbled under his breath as his eyes closed and he breathed, trying desperately to believe it.

"Tony, please." Steve's voice was quiet now, personal, and he guesses that it's just the two of them now. Natasha's disappeared, gone elsewhere. Whatever her reason, she was gone. 

"I'm sorry." He replied simply, turning off the comm. A tear gathered in his eye, but he wiped it away. 

He was alone again, but it was his fault. He recognized now that it'd probably always been his fault, though before he hadn't needed to put in the effort. Finally, someone cares, and Tony ruins it by getting _feelings_ for him. He guesses that, maybe, it's just better that he's alone and, maybe, he deserves it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha this is so not following canon but look at all of the fucks I give! All of them! I give all of the fucks actually but I'm going to pretend I don't so I don't pull a first-chapter-Tony, if you know what I mean.
> 
> Also, I sometimes don't like when people make Steve absolutely clueless about everything modern, but he is only a few months into the modern world and Clint makes a whole lot more innuendos than Steve's old (literally) friends did.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Tony, and this isn't even the worst of it...
> 
> I don't feel like editing, so have fun reading this. For hints/spoilers to the next chapter or any writing things to come *wink wink*, I'll probably post some on my tumblr to everything I write at cvptainamericas.tumblr.com/tagged/hint-hint
> 
> So there, enjoy!

"Hey, Tasha-" Steve began as he entered the Tower, having just come back from a solo op. SHIELD had sent him on a recon mission to a HYDRA base they'd tracked down. He was to get as much information as possible before going in and wiping them out, or at least taking out command. His mind had been elsewhere and he'd almost been shot twice. Usually, Tony would be with Steve before he was even in the Tower, waiting for him in the elevator, as JARVIS would tell him when Steve was on his way back. However, the mechanic had been exactly what had occupied Steve's mind on the mission and, as he had guessed, Tony wasn't here waiting for him.

"Sorry, Steve. He's been coming out for coffee and the occasional bite to eat, and I mean bite, but no one really knows what he's up to. The lab hasn't been locked, in case you want to go down, but none of us can really get much out of him." She looked apologetic, although he couldn't figure out why everyone seemed to pity _him_ these days. Sure, Tony was his best friend and now he wouldn't speak to him much, but maybe they'd hit a rough patch. Maybe Steve had said something, although Tony most certainly wasn't infamous for his ability to hold a grudge.

Downstairs, Tony was, as always, working diligently, equations and calculations rushing through his head very near to the speed of sound. Every once in a while, he would think of something, some _one_ else and push himself harder into his work, somehow. At this point, his face was beat up and bruised, not really being particularly cautious, blaming himself when something went wrong because _god damnit, why hadn't he thought about that?_ which led to a lot of confrontation with the walls and, every once in a while when he was out, a meet and greet with a roof.

Every mistake led him deeper and deeper into his work until the numbers and criticism were coursing through his head like a river, flowing swiftly and without any indication of slowing as the swept him off of him feet, leaving him unable to breathe. He'd work himself into a fit, constantly thinking _what next_ , only to stress himself out. He'd been eating, sleeping, and working, all of them in the workshop, except for when he took a test flight in attempt to escape whatever it was he was feeling. 

At times, all he could think of was _you were raised to be better than this_ and _people will only let you down_ ; whatever he could to maybe get himself to stop feeling how he did whenever Jarvis announced Steve's name on the phone.

"Sir," he was brought from his thoughts as JARVIS began speaking, "Mr. Rogers is back." He sounded hopeful, as JARVIS worried about Tony more than anyone, but Tony just nodded.

"Vitals?" 

"All clear. No injuries detected in the scan." Tony nodded again.

"Thanks, J. Loc- No. Never mind." As much as he knew he should listen to what he'd been telling himself ( _avoid avoid avoid_ ), he had to see Steve again, had to look at him and know he was really alright.

Within seconds of the conversation, before Tony could give thought to changing his mind, the elevator was opening to show one Steven Rogers walking quickly away from the doors, as though Tony would shut him in if he gave him time to do so.

"Steve." Tony breathed out the name, relief coursing through him as he saw that JARVIS had been right. Excluding the bags under his eyes, Steve was fine.

"Tony." Steve returned his name almost like a question, but it wasn't soft like he usually made it sound. It had edges, and those edges had edges, jagged points that Tony didn't want to come from Steve's tongue. His name came like a wonder, like Tony had been a dream, a nightmare, and Steve was only just now realizing that, no, this was reality, and his nightmare was right in front of him.

Tony opened his mouth to speak, but it was useless, as he was quickly enveloped by a hug that made him feel small, but in a good way. A hug that made you think that maybe, if you could stay like this forever, things would be okay.

Steve held on like he would never see Tony again, knowing that was likely the truth if he let go.

"Why, Tony? What's going on. Let someone in, let _me_ in. Tony, we're all worried. You haven't been speaking to anyone-"

"I have great, intellectual conversations with myself. And J."

"-you don't eat-"

"I thought coffee counted as a meal. I've got some granola bars down here if you want one... Somewhere" He looked around.

"-and, by the looks of it, you haven't been sleeping."

"Do I really look that bad? I guess that's what you get from sleeping on a workbench."

"Alright, Tony, that's it." Steve said, his voice absolutely set and, for the moments before the captain spoke again, Tony feared that his attempt at distancing himself had been successful, and Steve had had enough of his bullshit. He felt a look of panic flash across his face, although Steve didn't seem to notice it in the millisecond that it had been there.

"We're going out." Steve said, and it was final, although Tony, after pushing and pushing for weeks on end, tried to argue.

"Steve, I just-" but the look that his friend gave him pulled him up short. Steve's head had tilted slightly, his jaw dropping a bit and his eyes grew slightly wider. It wasn't the puppy-dog look, it was worse than the puppy dog look. It was regret and so, _so_ sad. It said "what did I do?" as clearly as if he'd spoken it. Steve looked as if he were going to cry, and Tony would be damned if he let Steve cry on his account. He would sooner find himself down on his knees, apologizing for every less than gentle breath he sent in his direction. He sighed.

"Alright." He murmured, and the word was nearly hollow, not yet filled with the regret that Tony knew was to come from this. "What's the plan?" He inquired. He watched as, slowly, a smile began to creep its way onto Steve's face that was so bright, it could probably give the sun a run for it's money.

"Well, first, you're going to shower. Then, we're going to see if we can find you something more substantial for dinner than granola bars and coffee. After that, we'll figure something out. We always do." And that stupid smile was still on his face and, wow, something so full of energy must be contagious, because pretty soon, before Steve could start rushing Tony upstairs to the bathroom, Tony felt a grin planting itself firmly on his face that didn't appear to be going anywhere anytime soon.

-

"Hey, looks like the bat's finally come out of its cave. How'd you do it, Steve?" Clint asked, looking both genuinely curious and as though he knew something he shouldn't. "Nat, look who's here!" He called over his shoulder. Soon enough, Natasha sauntered in, eyebrows raised.

"Wow. Never. Would've. Guessed it." She commented, although the smirk on her face said that she meant anything but. The captain gave her a kind of sideways look, but she simply smiled back at him before grabbing an apple and walking back out of the room.

"Alright, Steve, so what're we up to?" He asked, ignoring Natasha's comment for all but an eye roll.

"Observatory?" Steve asked him, smiling. Tony's smile faltered, but only for a moment and he played it as shock. After all, it had been months since he and Steve had been working in the lab when Tony commented on how much he used to love astronomy. He used to find it fascinating, the stars and galaxies. How everything seemed so far away and so close at the same time. Since the the battle of New York, though, it all just seemed too close, like he could never escape it. The universe was surrounding him, a tiny part of him that had never come out of the wormhole.

"I can't believe you remembered!" _And I wish you hadn't_ Tony thought, but that fact he could keep to himself.

On the way to the observatory, Steve didn't stop asking questions. What Tony knew about space (too much), when he started to learn about it (at six), why he admired it so much (he said it was because it was just so enormous, but it was really because it seemed as lonely as he felt, but it was just so astonishing).

Once they were finally at the World Trade Center, they rode the elevator up to the 102nd floor.

Steve entered the observatory excitedly, as he knew no more about space than the information Tony had just provided for him. Tony followed along, trying to avoid the pictures on the wall, every once in a while, when he glanced up and a picture would pull him in, all he could think was _it's not that bright, it's so much darker, so much worse_. Steve was in constant awe, the sheer magnificence of it all keep his jaw slightly hinged the entire time.

They walked through a room filled with fake rock, the ceiling glowing with lights, all built to look like space. Tony had to grab Steve's arm, looping his arm through Steve's jokingly to play it off. As they went deeper through the exhibit, he thanked Dr. Erskine when he realized that he was grabbing Steve's arm so tightly that it would have bruised him had he been normal.

It was around 11 o'clock when they finally went to look at the city in the main room.

"Just look at it." Steve commented, voice almost loose, but Tony's was tight when he spoke, strained.

"Yeah. The city's beautiful." He responded. Steve gave him a sort of side-ways look.

"No, Tony, look at the sky. You can see the stars tonight." He stated. Tony forced himself to look up and his breath caught short. He'd avoided looking at the sky or even being outside at night since the wormhole. In his bed, whereas it used to bother him to no end, he was now grateful for the light that shone his chest.

"Tony, -" His voice was insistent.

"I can't." He spat out, not angry, just kind of embarrassed. He felt horribly and he wasn't entirely sure why. Perhaps it was because he hated to let Steve down, or maybe he just hated feeling so scared. He knew he should't be. He could could see it on Steve's face when he understood. He watched the realization dawn on the man's features before looking down.

"Tony, I'm-" And this time his voice was apologetic, but Tony hated hearing it.

"No, it's fine. I hoped I'd be able to handle it, Steve. I'm sorry." Before Steve could start speaking, Tony turned around and they walked to the elevator together, silent the entire way down.

When they got in the car, Steve began to speak and, no matter how Tony tried to speak over him, Steve didn't allow it.

"Tony, I'm sorry. I didn't even think. I just remembered you being so excited and you'd just been so low lately that I thought that something you loved that much would help. I just wanted to help." Steve seemed so sincere and so worried and it made Tony more nervous than almost anything else. He just wanted Tony to be happy. Tony couldn't speak, could hardly think, for once. It was taking a moment to process. This was the first time he could ever remember that someone, not of his own creation, had just wanted to help him. No ulterior motives, just wanted him to be happy. It was the first time anyone had bothered to remember anything about him that wasn't simply in order to help 'diagnose him' or use him.

Or maybe it wasn't.

_"Hey, Tony, you were talking about how you needed this part for your car a little while ago. Not entirely sure what you would need it for, you've got four other cars..." He walked forward, placing the part on the table beside his tablet where Tony was typing away quickly, working on some project or another._

_"Hey, Tony, you want to go to that diner you were talking about before?"_

_"Tony, how about a trip to the zoo? I know you said your dad hated animals, so I'm guessing you've never gone. It'll be fun." And he grabbed Tony's arm, forcing him away from whatever project he'd been working on._

And just the other day: _"So, there is your black "wake-up" cup and here," Steve paused to hand Tony the second cup, "is your milk and two spoonfuls of sugar."_

Tony was taken from his thoughts by the weight of Steve's had on his shoulder and blue eyes staring into his.

"Tony?" He asked, worry edging into his voice. God, that's all Tony was lately. A reason for worry. He hated for Steve to worry, he just wanted him to be happy, just wanted things to be alright and, if they couldn't be for Tony, then at least for Steve, because Steve deserved the world. He deserved everything life could give him and if Tony had to take the bad and give Steve the good in his, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

"Nothing." Tony muttered, his voice small. He wasn't really there, his mind was just _SteveSteveSteve_ and he couldn't focus on words, word were pointless, irrelevant, when there was someone who was good, someone who was so good that they actually _remembered_ him and _worried_ about him.

"Tony, don't nothin-"

"No, Steve it's nothing. I'm just shocked you remembered, that's all." And the statement was so innocent, so normal since the conversation had occurred so long ago that Steve just nodded, looking out the windows again. Meanwhile, in Tony's head, there was electricity buzzing and thoughts running through his head so fast that he couldn't register them before they were gone, all he knew was that every single one, as they tended to be lately, was about the man next to him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _***PLEASE READ***_**  
>  This chapter will show a lot of anxiety and depression, even though I know it's never been said canonically that he has the latter, it's kind of obvious if you know what you're looking at. Anyway, I just want you all to be okay, so if you feel your throat close up or your chest tighten, _please stop reading this_. Back out of the story, close the tab, forget about it. I don't want you reading this if it is in any way harmful, okay?
> 
> I hope you have a magnificent day, you deserve it!

The streets were filled with screaming and police, who were trying to get civilians into buildings, into safety.

“I think…” Tony paused a moment, “that we should join them,” he remarked as he looked at the petrifying monster in front of him. Down the street a ways, a spider. But not just any spider. “I don’t think, however, that spiders are supposed to move that fast.” He continued, the Avengers having just come out of the Tower.

“Tony, I don’t think spiders are supposed to be that _big_ either.” Steve commented back, still gaping at the thing in front of them.

“Alright, Captain Obvious.” Tony would have rolled his eyes, had he not, too, been staring at the oversized giant huntsman spider before them.

The spider was more than a story tall, easy, with a leg span that hardly fit in the city streets. It’s long, spindly legs were black and brown, almost striped, its body darker and sectioned. It’s black pedipalps were large, covering half of it face, making it uglier and more horrific every time they reached toward the ground.

It moved around quickly, half scuttling, half leaping, racing through the city at incredible speeds.

“So, who wants to take the first hit?” Tony asked, and the question hung there for a moment before they braced themselves for battle. Apparently the arachnid finally saw them there, as it looked back, something dropping from where it’s mouth must have been, before it started charging them.

“Split!” The captain yelled, all of them running off in various directions as the spider bore down on them.

Clint ran to the nearest skyscraper, which wasn’t too far, and ran in, finding his way to the roof. The Hulk leaped at the gargantuan animal, smashing down with his hands, but it only leaped back and webbed him. He tore through it within seconds and backed away, standing with Natasha who had stood further back, studying the creature with disgust and speculativeness as she took out a gun and felt for the knives in her belt. Steve had run toward the monster as the Hulk had, but had taken a much more tactical approach.

He ran beneath the monster, sprinting to be at it’s back side. He slashed at it’s legs with his shield, only just making a scratch.

“Be prepared for a fight, this thing’s not going down easy, he commented, trying another swipe at the leg. Instead, as he swung his shield, the leg kicked out at him fast, Steve having only just enough time to place his shield in front of his chest, which absorbed most of the impact, although he was still sent through the air.

Meanwhile, Tony had immediately risen and, whereas he had previously been shooting at the spider from above, he was now flying through the streets, examining the carnage. As he passed over the spot where the spider had been before noticing him, he dropped, looking to find whatever it was that it had held. He didn’t have to look long.

Steve charged in again, Hawkeye now raining arrows down on the beast, not puncturing the skin much, but the explosive arrows he quickly began using surely couldn’t have been too good for its health. Nat fire shots, one after another, rapid fire into each eye. Hulk ran back in, smashing and bashing everywhere, the combination of the four of them being almost too much for the monster to handle.

Almost.

“Hey, Cap.” Tony started.

“Stark, we could use you over here.” Natasha said, reloading her weapons.

“Cap, be careful!” He yelled, just as Steve let out a grunt.

“Rogers, you alright?” Tony heard Natasha ask.

“Yeah, just a bite.” He responded. Tony stopped breathing for a minute as he looked at the body in front of him, the one that had fallen from the spider’s mouth. Something green was oozing from every orifice, out of the eyes, mouth, nose. Bite marks from the body oozed as well, the poison mixing with the dark red blood. The entire arm of the long sleeve the woman had worn was in rags, leaving a bite completely visible. Around it, nearly the entire arm had turned black, darkest around the mark.

“Cap-” Tony choked. He looked back to see Steve still standing strong, fighting hard. Tony immediately rose up, flying in toward the battle that looked almost over.

Tony used the repulsors, shooting over and over in quick succession. Although it stood up to the beating at first, with the extra fire power, the large arachnid was no collapsing, its legs unable to hold as the bled out. 

Within minutes, the final fall took place and the spider stopped moving. 

Everyone gathered, Clint coming down from his watch and Bruce coming back down from the Tower, where he had gone as soon as it was over to get pants. Tony put the mask down and looked anxiously at Steve, but he appeared to be alright. He nodded to himself, reassured that Steve would be alright. 

Clint chuckled, almost a snort escaping from his throat. 

"Gonna be alright, Cap?" Clint asked, smirking at Tony. Was he that obvious. 

"Yeah, Barton. Thanks. Just a bite." He replied. The six of them began walking back to the Tower, Tony catching up with Steve once they were out of the elevator. 

"Hey, Cap, you sure you're good?" He asked, his voice anxious. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks, Tony." 

"You sure?" Tony insisted. Steve let out a loud, quick laugh, a smile remaining on his face as he looked at his teammate, who was thinking about the swollen, dead woman in the street. 

"Alright, Shellhead, you want to check it?" Steve asked, his eyebrow raised, tone sarcastic. Tony was quiet and Steve just cocked his head, eyebrows now furrowing. "Well, alright then," the soldier said, lifting the skin-tight shirt from his top half. 

Tony's breath caught in his chest and he had to focus on his breathing, make sure that it was staying even. No matter how breathed though, it felt wrong. 

Especially once Steve's shirt had come fully off. 

Tony saw the bite immediately over his right ribs, mainly because of the black mark around it. 

"See? It's- Is that a bruise?." Steve asked rhetorically, more to himself than to Tony. 

"Steve..."

"How is that...?" And then he collapsed. 

-

Steve woke up on an uncomfortable, lumpy bed, an itchy sheet covering him, and wondered if it's all been a dream. Or more like a nightmare, but maybe he was back home. 

He opened his eyes to bright white, clean-looking lights. 

_This sure as hell isn't Germany…_

"You're awake." He turned to his left, facing the voice, which came from a tired-looking Tony. 

"How long have I," he grunted as he tried to lift himself into a sitting position, "been out?" He finished. Tony had already stood up so quickly that his chair fell back. 

"Woah there, Cap." Tony said, putting his hands on his teammate's shoulders as he tried to push himself up. 

"Slow it down. You're gonna be sore. They aren't sure entirely what that venom was. You've been out for a day and a half. In and out, Cap. You had us all worried." Tony looked past Steve, unable to quite focus on his face, thinking of all eight times Steve's heart had stopped in that day and a half. Doctors said if it were anyone else, they probably would've been gone within minutes. During the fight, it had only been the adrenaline keeping him up. After, only the serum keeping him alive. 

"Stark, did you even leave?" Steve inquired, a hint of scolding in his voice. 

"Ah, Cap, we both know this isn't the longest I've ever been up." Tony joked, a grin on his face. Steve just glared at him. 

"Steve... If you didn't almost just die _eight times_ , then I'd probably never say this, but I'm not letting you die without telling you..."

"Tony?" Steve looked worried, scanning Tony just as he did whenever Tony did something stupid and he feared he was hurt. 

It was that look he'd fallen in love with, and it was that look that did it for Tony. 

He leaned in quickly, pressing his mouth to Steve's, but only for a second before he was pushed back. 

"What the hell, Stark?" Steve demanded, voice near furious. 

"I-I just, I didn't-don't-I'm sorry. I'll just-"

“I don’t know-”

“I can’t believe what I was thinking, I’ve ruined this-”

“What? No- Tony, it’s not- I’m not- I mean, we can still be…” The hesitance in Steve’s voice is what hurt the most, even if Steve was trying to act alright with it all. “Friends?” And the pause before the word, the question, was what finished him off.

“Yeah, Cap, I’m sure. Just- Just forget I said anything, yeah?” I’ll be fine.” Tony stammered, backing out of the room. His heel bumped against the door and he reached back, twisting the handle and opening it behind him, panicking, rushing to get out.

“Yeah, Stark.” _Stark… Ouch._ And Tony left the room, all but sprinting as he crashed through the hallways, too preoccupied to pay any attention to where he was going, only muttering out ‘sorry’s so often that he might as well have just screamed it to the hospital.

He reached the elevator, clicking the button over and over until the door opened to reveal his teammates. They all stepped out as he stepped in, smacking the M button for the main for, as well as the close-door button.

“Stark, is Steve alright?” Natasha.

“Tony, you look like you’re going to be sick.” Bruce.

He only had time to register who had spoken before the doors closed. Their eyes were only curious, but to him they all looked as though they were mocking him, telling him that he should’ve realized that Steve wouldn’t, couldn’t, have wanted _him_ of all people. Friendship had been one thing, but a romantic relationship?

Now that Tony thought about it, had they ever really even been friends? Or was Steve just taking care of his teammate? Perhaps, as Tony had once guessed, Steve just hadn’t wanted his life to be in the hands of such a disaster.

When the doors opened, Tony banged his way through the lobby and outside, literally, crashing into almost everything on his way to his suit, feeling his throat close up.

It’d been so long, but Tony knew an anxiety attack when he was having one. He’d had far too many to not be familiar with the symptoms. 

He slipped into the suit, telling JARVIS to get him home before he got sucked into his head, the anxiety eating away at him. After all, it wasn’t like he could just walk back into the hospital and ask Steve to hold his hand anymore. He’d ruined that.

Meanwhile, the team had walked into Steve’s room, worry plastered on their faces after seeing Tony’s. However, upon entering, they saw nothing wrong, just Steve staring at the wall, his first three fingers to his lips. Everyone could tell almost instantly what had happened. Clint cleared his throat and Steve jumped, his hand moving quickly just to be placed on the covers.  
-

It’d been a few days since Steve had gotten home and everything was off, although no one would acknowledge it.

Tony had tried to speak to Steve–to apologize, to joke, to tell him about suit plans, which Steve usually loved, to just try to make things normal–but Steve brushed him off. Each time Tony tried to say a word, Steve would leave the room. He’d try to make it subtle (“oh, sorry Natasha just called me,” “Fury’ll be pissed if I miss another call,” “I’ll be right back, I’ve got a thing to do”) but he could tell by the shrug and nod that were all that he received from Tony that he wasn’t fooled in the slightest. Steve hadn’t really expected him to be. He didn’t want to lose Tony as a friend, but he just wasn’t sure how he felt about _it_. They were both guys and, when Steve was growing up, that was off limits. There wasn’t even much thought about it.

He’d tried his best not to be judgemental, after all, it wasn’t his place, but… To have someone like _that_ liking _him_? It just… Didn’t feel right. Did it? 

He wasn’t really sure.

Gradually, Tony stopped trying. It started out small, just things like him not even trying to strike up a conversation when Steve was there, but soon they acted like strangers. There was no “Morning, Cap,” a salute and a smile coming from Tony as he grabbed a mug of coffee. There wasn’t even a “Morning” anymore. Steve told himself that was a good thing.

Tony spent a lot more time in his workshop, a lot less time with anyone else. He wouldn’t go out with the team anymore, he just worked, and Steve knew that it was his fault as he watched Tony flinch and/or avert his eyes whenever he saw Steve.

He got noise complaints, meaning that Natasha came down, concern practically emanating from her pores, and told him that she could hear it from outside the soundproofed lab and that he was going to blow out his eardrums. Bruce would ask him for assistance, but he always just claimed to be busy.

Tony whipped out armor after armor, weapon after weapon, making new arrows for Clint that would follow a target and latch on, paralysing the victim or exploding, whichever the archer said as he shot it. A gun for Natasha which only fired in her grip and came to her hand, just as his armor could follow or find him. A new suit for Steve, more flexible, more durable, more lightweight, more aerodynamic. Now he was working on pants that would stretch and shrink with the Hulk. He got frustrated often, the music hiding the _crash_ as he threw something. Bruce was excited, but worried, that worry only going every time he went down to check on Tony, seeing the lab in absolute disarray, and he wasn’t the only one.

In fact, they all seemed worried about Tony, minus the one man that usually was.

Tony tried not to think about it too much.

Steve tried not to think about Tony too much.

One evening, Tony was down in the lab again, and Natasha approached Steve.

“Hey, Tasha,” Steve muttered as he put a piece of popcorn in his mouth, watching a movie. Or, staring at a movie. He wasn’t much paying attention.

“Hey, Steve. Tony coming up to watch the movie?” She asked.

“No, why would he be?” Steve responded too fast.

“Just wondering. You two always watch bad movies together and this,” she paused and gestured to the film, where they watched ketchup colored blood spurt from a knife wound, across a roof, and into someone’s eye, blinding him before he stumbled off the roof, “most definitely qualifies.”

“No, he’s working.” Steve retorted nonchalantly.

“You don’t seem upset.” She observed.

“Why would I be?” He spat. Natasha’s eyebrows went up.

“You usually are. Whenever any of us do something like this.” She had him there. It wasn’t an unusual question for her to wonder why he wasn’t going to take care of Tony. What _was_ unusual was just the fact that he wasn’t. That was kind of his role on the team.

“Yeah, I guess.” He muttered, pretending to set his attention back to the screen. She stood there a moment more.

“You gonna go check on him?” She questioned.

“Jesus, he’s not my damn problem all the time, just because he can’t take care of himself!” Steve yelled, standing up. Natasha was taken aback for a moment, not used to having Steve’s frustration focused toward her, before she found herself yelling back.

“He’s not a fucking problem!”

“You take care of him day in and day out and then you try telling me that!” He emphasized _day in and day out_. She had no reason to be angry with him. He was done taking care of Tony’s bullshit.

“Just because you find out something that you act like you don’t like, that he’s bi, doesn’t mean you can start treating him like trash!” She yelled.

“No, I don’t have to treat him like trash, and I won’t,” Natasha snorted, “ but like I said, he’s not my problem anymore.”

“He’s. Not. A motherf-”

“Natasha.” 

She and Steve both looked up at the door frame to see Tony there.

“Hey, Nat, it’s fine. Gotta admit, I can be a definite pain, you know, with the whole not-eating-and-sleeping thing. Really doesn’t make for the easiest of people. Sorry, didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I figured out Bruce’s pants and it was, admittedly, kind of hard not to hear you.” Tony smiled, his self-deprecation a joke to him. Before he had turned away fully, his face had already fallen, making Steve’s stomach drop. As a matter of fact, he was pretty sure it was gone.

“Wow. Doesn’t he seem fantastic?” He was sure Natasha would be grinning about proving Steve wrong if it hadn’t been at Tony’s expense.

“Natasha, I just-”

“Fuck off.” She went to the elevator and then to her own room, leaving Steve standing in the common room wondering why he felt as though his heart felt like it’d pulled out of his chest and ran, leaving him behind picking up the torn pieces.

-

“Hello, Stark.” Steve muttered before taking a sip of his coffee, leaving Tony to make his own. Tony flinched as his last name rolled off of Steve’s tongue, once again like a sword, putting a whole through his chest.

He’d come down later this morning, hoping to avoid Steve, but Steve had stayed in the kitchen waiting, just like every morning, wanting to say something but having no idea what. He mumbled the same greeting, harsh even to his own ears, over and over again.

Tony stopped in front of the cabinet, about to grab a mug, but his hand paused as he reached and it hung there for a moment before he dropped it, turning around and practically sprinting from the room, mumbling something about going for a run, although Steve knew Tony probably hadn’t run a mile in his life.

However, as Tony walked away, Steve didn’t follow as he once would have and Tony looked back, hoping he would, like he never would have until recently.

Steve pretended not to notice.

Instead, he watched the coffee pour out, dark and thick, into the pot, the warm brown liquid reminding him of Tony’s eyes. Even more so as he watched it grow slowly colder, his heart along with it, and he couldn’t help but to feel nothing but confused. He didn’t, shouldn’t, like Tony like _that_ , but here he was, and every time he let Tony walk away, he just wanted him back, wanted him close again.

He’d watch tv, read a book, work out, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same without Tony’s voice making fun of every little plot device, constantly interrupting him, mocking him (“Well, jesus, Steve, what’d that bag do to you?”).

He’d even gone to the Met one evening, an attempt to clear his head, like it always did, but Tony wasn’t there, listening intently as he went on and on about every little detail, although he knew Tony would rather be almost anywhere else. (“Tony, why do you always come here with me? Don’t you hate this place?” “Well, Steve, I can’t tease you if I’m not with you. Where’s the fun in that?”)

He’d tried to be friends with Tony, he’d really wanted it, but everything was just so confusing.

He missed Bucky. He knew that if Buck were here, he’d help. But Bucky wasn’t here, Tony was, and he was losing the best friend he’d had in over 70 years. He knew it, but he couldn’t stop it, and it hurt like _hell_.

He did, though, still have one good friend that he could rely on.

Steve put down his barely-emptied mug before going upstairs to get dressed.

-

He had no idea how he would start this with Sam. He didn’t even know if Sam was okay with this type of thing, this “gay” thing. He just had to hope he’d understand that Steve didn’t quite know what he was and help him before he slammed the door in his face.

The wind rushing past his face as he flew over the streets on his bike helped clear his head, helped him think of where he might start.

 _”Sam, I’ve got a problem.”_ Yeah, that would work. They’d been through hell and back together, some “problem” wouldn’t scare Sam away before he heard Steve out.

He’d shot Sam a quick text before he’d come on his way so when he reached Sam’s house, he immediately got off of his bike and let himself in through the front door.

When he entered, he heard Sam’s voice about two rooms away, although not directed at him. If Sam was with someone, he wouldn’t have seen Steve’s text, as he said that he like to keep his sessions between him and the person he helped, shutting out everyone else.

 _“Well, that was awhile ago. Has this only just started now?_ He heard Sam’s voice muffled through the walls and began toward the front door. It wasn’t right to be able to hear somebody else’s private conversation. He would just come back when Sam texted back to him.

 _”Well,”_ and Steve stopped dead because he would know the deceiving, miserable chuckle that came after anywhere, _”until a few weeks ago, I had someone.”_ The words felt like a punch in the gut and each time they ran through his hand, he felt a fist land, knocking his breath out of him, each hit harder than the last. He knew morals still applied and that he should leave, but he couldn’t make himself move.

 _”And with… This person… What happened?”_ Sam’s voice carried and Steve’s eyes slid shut because he knew. He knew who this person was, it was him, and he was the reason Tony was here.

 _”Same thing that always happens.”_ Steve held his breath.

 _”I made a mistake.”_ The breath the came suddenly came in a gasp and he felt on the verge of collapse because _God, no, Tony, it wasn’t your fault._

_”And what mistake might that be?”_

_“I thought,”_ Tony sounded choked up and, wow, this hurt like hell. Tony continued. _”I actually thought that someone cared about me, y’know, more than just because they had to. More than just because I was the kid they’d burdened themself with or the teammate they couldn’t let die. Thought I might have a friend, hoped it could be something more. But, I mean, that was stupid,”_ there it was again, that self-deprecating laugh. Steve could practically see the attempt at a joking smile that always came with that laugh, plastered on Tony’s face, coming out more like a grimace, _”because I mean, why? Why would he? It was just stupid. I was stupid. Am always stupid._

_“Y’know, people call me a genius and I just… I just agree and laugh. I just play it up. Because, I mean, how are you supposed to just throw out there in the middle of your conversation that you have no idea what you’re doing, no idea what you’ve ever done. How do you admit that there is nothing that you have done that has changed the world in any magnificent way; in any way that the people that I care about actually give a damn about. How do you just admit that you may be smart, but you’re too damn stupid to do a single thing that’s good enough for your dad, your mom, your team. Your best friend._

_“How on_ earth _am I supposed to just say, ‘_ No, I’m not, I’m practically worthless, _’ without breaking down. Then again, it probably wouldn’t matter if I did break down. No one’s really there to ask about it.”_ And there it was again, that laugh. That horrible, satirical, mocking laugh that Steve now didn’t think he would ever get out of his head, along with each and every word that Tony had just spoken.

 _”Sorry.”_ It was quiet, muttered, and Steve just barely heard it, but it hurt like a bitch because that wasn’t Tony. Tony wasn’t quiet, reserved. He was a train wreck, but a train wreck that resulted in a brilliant flame that would spread to everything around him.

_”No, Tony, don-”_

_“No, this isn’t- I should be going. I just came here because Steve had said that you helped people with stuff like this awhile ago, but I’ve turned it into a therapy session. I’ve got three of those I could be going to, therapists that is, but instead I think I’ll just get back. People might be wondering where I am.”_ The voice was hopeful and doubtful and, at this point, Steve was pretty sure that his heart had just shattered. All of this shit had built up in Tony’s life and now, Steve had just been about to let him go back to suffering. He heard feet shuffling and wasn’t entirely sure what to do.

_”Well then, Tony, let’s get back to what you came here for. Before we were talking about your anxiety, how it didn’t use to be so bad.”_

_“It still sucked, but I could handle it. Before you really have anyone, handling everything on your own just seems like you could struggle along forever, never really feeling okay, or even remotely close, but never quite crashing and burning. Then, there was Steve.”_

_“And what’s it like now?”_

At this point, every word was just another knife cutting Steve open because it was true. Steve had been the only one that was truly, consistently there for him. But not anymore.

_”Now, I just… Nothing speaks to me or comforts me. I can’t sleep, I can’t work, I can’t eat, it’s just everywhere.”_

_“What is, Tony?”_

_“The darkness. The silence. It’s all over, it’s eating me alive. It’s constantly pressing in on me. I sit in my lab with my music at damaging decibels, but that’s all I do. I just sit. I can’t hear the music, not really, it’s just silent in my head. It just pulls me in and I can’t… I can’t pull myself out of my thoughts. JARVIS makes sure that any room I go into has the lights on at first, otherwise I panic. I see things coming toward me and sometimes I do in the light, even when there’s not a shadow to be found, because there actually is, and it’s in my head, and it’s taking over my thoughts and…”_ There was silence for a moment, but the next voice he heard was Sam’s, urgency in his tone.

“Woah, Tony, come back to me. Hey, hey.” Steve could only imagine Tony’s face right now.

Eventually, Tony spoke again, but his voice was hollow and now Steve was beginning to think he was hollow, too.

 _“I can’t… I can’t leave silences open like that. I just, it brings me back to it, the deafening silence I hear, it hurts, and it petrifies me. I don’t think anyone really understands the amount of nothing there was. I watched the explosion before I passed out and still, there was no sound. I think people forget that there is no air in space, it’s a vacuum, the waves have nothing to bounce off of and there’s no sound. Not unless you’re close to the explosion, where the waves can bounce off the debris. But there’s nothing. Just an absolute nothingness and it’ll make you go mad.”_ Tony’s voice shook, practically vibrato, and Steve couldn’t believe he’d let this happen.

 _“Tony, you need to see your therapist. Or talk to St-someone.”_ Sam said. He heard Tony shuffling and hid behind a wall as the door opened.

“I’ll be fine.” Tony’s voice was clear as he said it, no longer muffled through the door, and that was the last thing Tony had said to him before he really started to mess things up between them.

It was such a horrible, horrible lie, that Steve felt a sob and a laugh bubble up within him and, unable to stifle either one, both came crawling out of his throat, bursting out before he could cover his mouth.

“S-Steve?” Tony asked, and before Steve even had time to debate coming out from behind the wall, he was face-to-face with Tony, who looked absolutely mortified.

“Did you just- Oh, I’m sorry, Steve, I don’t know how much you heard, but pretend you heard none of it. I wasn’t blaming you, I swear, I know it’s my faul-”

“Tony-”

“No, I’m just going to go. I’m so sorry I delayed your time with Sam.”

“Tony, stop apologizing.”

“Sorry, ah sorry! No- sor- Never mind.” And Tony was out the door before Steve could blink.

“Steve, what on earth happened. That is not the Tony Stark you read about in the paper, or hear about in the new, or from the wome-”

“And that’s what I have to talk to you about.” Steve rushed out. Sam looked toward the door, worried, as though he had half-a-mind to run out and make sure Tony didn’t do anything stupid. Steve understood the look. It was taking everything within him not to do just that.

“Alright. Let’s have a chat.”

-

Tony’s eyes closed as he laid on the floor in his lab, a bottle in his hand and another rolling at his head.

He’d missed this feeling, missed it a lot, and right now, he couldn’t quite figure out why he’d ever given it up, although maybe that was because he couldn’t actually think about anything right now.

His eyelids drooped, so, so heavy, and he felt a relaxed grin find its way onto his face, the first one he’d had in over a month, ever since The Incident, as he liked to call it. Even as drunk as he was, he could feel the loneliness and rejection and pure hopelessness seeping through his veins. So, he did what seemed appropriate at the time. He reached for another drink.

But the bottle wasn’t there.

In its place beside his hip was, attached to a leg, attached to a waist, all of it attached to Steve Rogers.

For once, looking at him brought only a splash of pain, not a whole fucking tsunami. Tony laughed when he saw the bottle in Steve’s hand, barely anything left.

“Now that’s not very nice.” Tony muttered, a pout on his face. He was still laying on the ground. Steve crouched down, placing the bottle far behind him, looking at Tony closely. The brunette fidgeted.

“C’mon, gi’me the bottle.” A small teasing smile was on Tony’s lips.

“Good God, Tony, how much did you drink?” Steve mumbled, looking around the room to see the scattered bottles before looking back at Tony. Brown eyes wouldn’t meet blue.

“Gi’me the bottle or don’ look a’me like that.” Tony’s voice was low, slurring every word.

“Tony, you can’t… You can’t drink anymore.” Steve told him, knowing he wouldn’t get through, but desperate to try. Suddenly Tony rose to the defensive.

“An why is that, huh? You gotta take this from me, too? ‘Cause the drinks were always there, you jus’ can’ stand me having anything, huh?” There were tears in Tony’s eyes, the blissed-out drunk gone from just seconds ago.

“You wanna know why I think drinking’s so good? I gotta theory.” From the bitter tone of his voice, Steve knew he didn’t, but he forced himself to nod.

“I think- I think i’s so good because i’s always been there. When my dad hated me an’ Stane hated me an’ now you hate me, i’s always been ready. Always helped.” Steve felt tears begin to roll down his cheeks because here’s this man that only ever wanted to be good enough, but he only ever found himself as good enough to know the bottom of a bottle. And Steve never told him he was.

“Tony, it’s not helping. It’s hurting you. It’s going to kill you.” Steve said, his voice breaking.

“Better than this hellhole, amiright?” Then Tony started laughing, a genuine laugh, and, in a way, that was worse than that cruel, sardonic chuckle because this meant that he actually believed that.

“No. God, no, Tony-”

“I’s not like you want me here,” and the tears had come back to his eyes, “I’m jus’ a problem, right?” The tears fell now, fell freely, and Steve pulled Tony tightly to him. For whose sake, he wasn’t sure. Tears fell on cotton, on skin, on the floor, and Tony kept going. “I’m jus’ the problem that _you_ always have to deal with.” Tony cried harder, and Steve never regretted anything more in his life than those words.

“No, no, Tony, you’re not a problem-”

“But you said so. And you’re the perfect one, right? I know so, I know you are because my dad said so and the newspapers say so and the team says so and I know you. You would know. I’m a disaster. You-you took care of me before you got sick of me. If anyone would know, it’s you, not Natasha. Not Sam. You.” And Steve could hardly hear him between the sobs.

“Oh, God, Tony, I’m so sorry. I am so so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry,” and all the while, Tony just kept muttering, “You would know. I shouldn’t be here. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here anymore.” Steve just kept him close, afraid that, once again, if he let him go, he’d disappear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm sorry this sucks, but I'm exhausted and too lazy to proofread right now, but I wanted to get this out. You know why?
> 
>  
> 
> _  
> **CIVIL WAR TRAILER NUMERO DOS**  
>  _
> 
>  
> 
> It was so good. I almost started crying, screaming, and laughing, all within about thirty seconds and all in history. Oops! Also, I decided that I don't know what side I would be on because I'm anti-Registration Act, but I love Tony Stark more than literally anything, so...
> 
> Anyways, once again, it sucks, I'm sorry, one more chapter of this bullshit and then you can finally stop reading this because we all know it's just one of those stories you read because it's so bad that you can't stop reading it.
> 
> (Also, I know you're probably like "What the fuck??? He doesn't know Sam yet!" Well, too bad! I'm a horrible writer so deal with it.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not edited, oops!

“Oh, dear god,” Tony mumbled, his arm moving to rest over his eyes as the sunlight shone in through the windows.

“JARVIS, shades.” He said, although it didn’t come out as a command so much as a complaint. The room darkened considerably, but, due to a raging headache and the fact that the room was spinning (or at least he thought it was), he realized quickly that sleep wasn’t coming again any time soon.

He sat up, groaning, and nearly jumped out of his skin when another groan and the squeak of springs answered from the couch across the room.

He scrambled upright, grabbing the repulsor kept on his bedside table. The lights flashed on just in time for him to see a blond head dive off of the couch. The hand that had the repulsor fell to rest on the bed as his other reached up to rub his face. He turned his head to the side for a moment, his hand rested just under his nose, as his heart slowed and his eyes adjusted to the brightened room. His head ached from the quick flash of the lights and, honestly? He could probably be dying in a ditch right now and be happier than he is with this awful headache and dizzying nausea. Speaking of nausea…

Tony rose in a rush, vaulting his legs over the side of the bed and bolting to the bathroom off to his left.

Steve followed him in, walking to the doorway and leaning against it as Tony threw up violently into the toilet.

Steve physically winced at each wretch Tony made, the noises sounding perfectly horrendous.

After Tony had gone 30 seconds without throwing up again, he mumbled, more so to himself than Steve, whom he appeared to have forgotten was there, “What happened?”

“Well,” Tony jumped as Steve spoke up, though it had been little more than a whisper. “You drank a lot…” 

“I can tell.”

“And you said that you didn’t…” It was difficult for Steve to even repeat. His hands tangled and untangled themselves. “You-You don’t, didn’t, I don’t know. Which one that is. Don’t or didn’t. Maybe both.”

“You’re not making any sense, Steve, and it might be because my head feels like I bashed it in with a hammer, but I’m pretty sure you just flat out aren’t making any sense.” Steve cleared his throat two, three, six times before he looked at Tony and spoke again.

“Tonyhowlonghaveyouwantedtodie?” Steve blurted out, tears beginning to fall as he asked. He didn’t even notice them.

It took Tony a moment to separate and process the words, longer than normal due to the massive mess that was his train of thought right now, and the entire time, Steve stood there frozen, tears running down his face completely unacknowledged by the soldier.

Then Tony laughed.

“Tony,” Steve’s voice broke, “it’s not a laughing question.” 

That just made Tony laugh harder, eventually laughing so hard that he threw up again, only to continue laughing. It sounds half hysterical and, through the tears in his eyes, it took Steve a minute to realize that Tony’s laugh had drifted to something between laughter and an awful, ugly type of sobbing, though the laughter was definitely still mixed in there somewhere.

“Tony…” Steve murmured, drifting toward the man slowly and unintentionally. His feet just took step after step, one foot in front of the other, until he was crouching down beside his sobbing friend.

“That’s the thing though,” Tony spoke with his hands and the bawling wasn’t quite so atrocious, but he was still crying, though he chuckled, as though this whole thing were a joke to him. It would make sense. Everything was and Steve was only disappointed that he only now realized that that had just been Tony’s best defence mechanism against everything that had brought him to this point of sobbing in front of a toilet filled with vomit as he laughed about killing himself. He spoke again, still laughing.

“That’s the thing, I don’t even know.” He took a moment to wipe his eyes as he laughed and cried and _dear god_ this was awful. “I don’t even remember not feeling like this.” He laughed again. “I just want to get fucking hit by truck.” He said, gasping for breath. He made a realization and laughed some more.

“Looks like my old man was doing it right after all!” And if Steve’s heart hadn’t been broken before, it definitely was now. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t even sure that he’d woken up in the hospital. Maybe he’d just gone to hell for some reason.

“Tony, why? Why would you keep that?” Steve asked Tony after he’d finally calmed down and they’d wandered back into the bedroom. Tony took a moment.

“Kept what? The alcohol? I guess I thought it was a good idea. When I wanted to drink, instead of going to a bar, I forced myself to sit down with a bottle in front of me, down in my own workshop, where I would tell myself all the reason I stopped, all of the reasons I’d put down the bottle all those months ago.” He stopped, eyes sliding across the room; out the window, to the door, skimming across the bookshelves. Anywhere but the blue eyes in front of him.

“Lately, I’ve been finding more reasons to drink than to not. And, I mean, when I’ve managed to ruin the best friendship I’ve ever managed to somehow get myself into… When everybody else just likes you because you own _stuff_ and because you can give _them_ stuff, it just gets a little,” he chanced a glance at Steve with a flash of a smirk before his eyes flitted away, “rough.” Now his eyes settled on the bed sheet that his hands were toying with before Steve placed his own hands over them, forcing them to a stop. 

“Tony, I never said I didn’t like you.” Steve said, looking at Tony intently. The latter simply looked down.

“Steve, I don’t want your pity-”

“Tony, when I was growing up, it, _this_ wasn’t okay. People weren’t free or open, men liked women and women liked men. That’s just how it was and I mean… People call me, call us, heroes and kids look up to us, but when I was younger, there were no superheroes. People didn’t have powers or super strength or the technology like we do. My hero?” Steve stopped for a minute to take a deep breath. “My hero was my mom. She was… She was the best person in the world to me, but, like I said, this wasn’t okay. She wouldn’t have accepted it if I was…” He seemed like he had to swallow the word before he could spit it out. “Gay.

“When she was dying, she was _so strong_.” His voice cracked at the end and he wasn’t really looking at Tony anymore. 

“She still tried her best for me and, when she was gone, things weren’t… Things weren’t right. They were skewed and sideways and, since then, I’ve just been trying to do my best for her, like she always did for me. I always tried to live up to what she wanted me to be. I guess I’ve known for a while now, just completely unwilling to accept that I wasn’t what my mother would have wanted, but… I think she would’ve just wanted me to be happy if she’d grown up now, and I am, with you.” He looked back to Tony at this, staring right into chocolate brown eyes, face intense.

“And I know that I might’ve ruined this. I don’t know that I could forgive me if our roles were reversed, but-”

“Steve, don’t you see that that’s the problem? There’s nothing to forgive! I won’t even hesitate, but if you’re just doing this because you’re sorry, then I don’t want it.” Tony rose as he spoke, finally pulling his hand from Steve’s.

“If you don’t want an us, I’ll find a way to handle that, but, Steve, please. I’m distant like you asked me to be, and now... I think I need it too.” Tony’s face was heartbreaking before he walked away, slowly moving toward his door.

As his hand turned the handle, Steve called out.

“Tony-” but he didn’t know what to say. He just didn’t want Tony to leave. Not when he’d only just realized that he could have him. Tony turned around haltingly, as though he didn’t want to, but he couldn’t force himself not to. When Steve said nothing, they just stood, staring at each other, before Steve picked himself up and carried himself to where the brunette was standing.

He reached for Tony’s cheekbone, hand moving to caress it. When Tony turned his face away, Steve continued the motion, letting the backs of his fingers rest at Tony’s jaw.

“I will prove it to you, Tony. I will prove to you that I want this, want us. That I want you.” Tony’s eyes fell shut, but only for a second, before he was turning, pulling open the door and stepping out.

Steve still stood there in Tony’s room, the mixing smells of cologne and metal oddly comforting at the moment, hand frozen in the air. His own eyes drifted shut as he sighed, suddenly pulling his hands through his hair and groaning.

“What did I do?” He asked himself.

He stood there for only a moment longer, knowing he couldn’t just wallow in self-pity and hope that Tony would see that he’d meant what he said.

-

“Bruce, I need help.” Steve said a few days later, charging into Bruce’s lab. Bruce looked up at him, white lab coat on, goggles covering half of his face.

“You must really be in trouble.”

“No, please, Bruce, I messed things up with Tony.” Bruce took the goggles off of his face, resting them atop his head like sunglasses.

“Ah, so you’ve finally realized.” The feminine voice of Natasha rose up from behind him as he heard the door close. “You’ve done a little more than mess up, Rogers.” Steve spun on his heel, angry.

“I get that, but now I want to fix things? Are you going to help me? Or keep nagging me about what I’ve done wrong?” He demanded, face going red.

“Steve, don’t be angry with her. You brought this on yourself.” Bruce stated from behind him. Steve sighed. He knew that, he was just frustrated with himself because, this last day, Tony had just been so _friendly_. No incessant bickering, no _hey, Steve, come look at this_ , and especially none of the constant flirting Tony was practically known for. He was just being infuriatingly _friendly_. And, even worse, at first, Steve noticed Tony being careful not to touch Steve. He’d reach out before quickly drawing his arm back. Now, it just seemed no problem at all to completely avoid touching Steve in every way shape and form.

Steve never thought that he would miss all of it. This wasn’t even Tony.

“Please, help me.”

“Cap, you know Tony. He already forgives you. That doesn’t mean you can fix it. He’ll probably just continue mulling over everything that happened between you whenever he thinks you to are getting close and convince himself to pull away. He’ll blame himself for everything _you’ve_ done. You and I both know Tony.” The face Bruce made had Steve wanting to scream. It was the I-want-to-help-but-don’t-know-that-I-can face and if Bruce didn’t know how to help Tony, did anyone? Beside maybe Steve, but Steve was currently the one in trouble.

“Steve, you might’ve screwed yourself over on this one.” Natasha said apologetically. He looked back and forth between the two of them, hoping that either one might say something. Neither did.

“I won’t lose him.” Steve said, striding out of the room.

“Maybe you already have.” Bruce called after him, but that couldn’t be true, right? Things could be okay again.

Steve hoped that was true.

-

**Operation Get Tony Back**

**Phase One:**

Steve looked at the list before him and nodded to himself. He _would_ get his best friend back. Hopefully he’d get a boyfriend too, but if things could only go back to how they had been, Steve was alright with that, too.

As he’d said before, Steve just wanted his Tony back.

“Hey, Tony, can I have help with the proportions on this?” Steve asked as he walked into the workshop. Tony was lying on the ground, sweat glistening on his skin and blood glistening on the floor as he spit it from his mouth.

He stood quickly, shocked by the sudden intrusion. Steve had always been the only person that would come in without invitation, but that had been before, when his invitation was given, just unspoken.

“Uh, crash landing.” Tony commented. Steve nodded and then he must’ve stayed silent for a little too long.

“What can I do you for, Cap?” He asked, wiping off his hands and taking a drink of water.

Steve stood there hesitantly for a moment.

“Uh, proportions. Can’t quite figure them out on this drawing.” He said. Tony studied him inquisitively, although the request seemed innocent enough. Tony nodded and waved him over.

He stood beside Tony, close enough that their shoulders could brush. Every time they did, Tony adjusted his position infinitesimally, whether knowingly or not, Steve wasn’t sure. Steve listened intently as Tony spoke, though not to the words he was saying. Steve knew how to fix the proportion easily enough. He listened to Tony’ voice; the way the pitch rose and fell, the decrease in the amount of breaths he would take as he got more invested in the matter. It’d been awhile since he’d heard Tony speak about anything this ordinary, since he’d heard him speak so easily.

Steve missed it.

Tony snapped in front of his face, he must’ve zoned out.

“Capsicle? You frozen again?” Tony asked him. It was the closest to a not-self deprecating joke as Tony had made to him in awhile. He’d take it.

“Sorry, no, I get what you’re saying. Thanks, Tones.” Steve said, walking over and plopping himself down on one of the stools by the table.

“Uh, Steve, what are you doing?” Tony asked him, discomfort clear in his voice. Steve hated that.

“Just gonna stay down here awhile, case I get stuck on anything else.” Steve said politely. Tony just nodded.

-

“Hey, Tony, what upgrades have you got for us.”

“Hey, Tony, my tablet isn’t working.” 

“Hey, Tony, brought you lunch.”

At first it’d only been every few days, but now it was everyday, Steve found himself some excuse to visit Tony in his workshop. Tony obviously knew what he was doing at this point, but it didn’t matter, as he hadn’t kicked him out yet.

“Hey, Tony,” and Steve’s train of thought appeared to have derailed because, this time, when he walked in, Tony hadn’t jumped. Phase One nearly complete.

“Yeah, Steve?” Tony asked once Steve had gone silent.

“I, uh, I can’t actually remember.” Steve said, shrugging and standing there for a moment.

“Well, muscles, while you’re in here-” _Aha!_ “What?”

“Huh?” Steve asked, confused. Tony looked equally as confused.

“You just ‘aha’d…” Tony’s voice trailed off as he looked at Steve, an eyebrow raised. “Well, anyway, I need help with this.”

Tony not only accepted Steve’s presence in the lab, but had requested help.

Phase One complete.

-

“Morning Tony.” Steve said, clapping Tony on the shoulder of the room once he’d stepped into the common room. Steve hadn’t been waiting since he got back from his run. That would just be ridiculous and a complete waste of time.

Then he just walked out of the room, trying to seem as nonchalant as ever. He was, admittedly, anything but. Especially when he felt Tony’s shoulder twitch back under force of habit from ducking all forms of touching between the two of them. 

Originally, this had been Phase Three, but Tony was still resting his hands on Clint’s shoulder and poking at Banner and, as much as he might try not to let it, it was really bothering Steve.

So every day, sometimes a few times a day, he would just give Tony small touches, whether it be another clap on the back or if he’d bump him “accidentally” while he was walking. His favorites were when he had to grab something that he “thought was about to fall” in the lab. It never was, Tony, though not careful enough for Steve’s taste, did show some precautions while working. But it was with these that he would practically collide into Tony, or that he would rest his hand under Tony’s as he held something up, their bodies practically in line. Tony would get kind of squirmy and awkward at first, but, just as Phase One, Tony gradually grew to accept it and Steve was absolutely and wholeheartedly ecstatic.

-

Phase Three: get Tony to go out with him.

Steve walked into the lab, five o’clock on a Friday night, to Tony talking with JARVIS.

“J, no, I can’t. Not-” But JARVIS cut him off.

“Hello, Captain Rogers.” Tony’s face went beet red for a moment before he spun in his chair, standing mid-spin.

“Cap, what can I do for you?” He asked, walking forward to meet Steve in the middle of the room.

“We’ve decided on a team dinner. You coming?” Actually, he’d decided on a team dinner and forced the others to comply. They could remake their plans some other time.

Tony stood silently for a moment. “Actually, I’m in the middle of something. Another time, though.”

Steve nodded and turned, leaving the room. He wasn’t going to push it. Tony could come when he was ready.

The thing was, that’s what it was every single time.

“Sorry, I’ve got a meeting and Pep might actually kill me if I miss this one.”

“Rhodes and I had plans. Maybe we could see that movie some other time.”

But it was the last one that really got him.

“Actually, I already had a cup of coffee, thanks though.” That had been in response to Steve’s offer of going out to breakfast. It’d been five weeks and, still, no sign of progress on Phase Three. 

“You, turn down a free cup of coffee?” Steve asked.

“Well, I already- Son of a bitch!” Steve grabbed Tony’s wrist and dragged him to the elevator. Tony struggled, but he didn’t have enhanced strength, and therefore it did nothing. “Damn super soldiers…” He heard Tony mumble.

“That’s a lame excuse. You’re coming.” Tony pulled one last time and relaxed. Steve looked at him, astonished.

“Okay.”

“What?”

Steve didn’t really mean to question it and he regretted it as soon as the word came from his mouth, but it didn’t dissuade Tony at all. The elevator doors closed behind them and Steve just stared at Tony, not quite sure he believed what had happened here.

“You’re a total stick up my ass,” _I wish_ , “way too stubborn for your own good, and have the worst puppy dog eyes. So okay.” Steve could feel the look on his face, halfway between disbelief and elation.

“Can I just do something first?” Tony asked as the elevator went up.

“Yeah, what do you need?” Steve responded. He didn’t get an answer. Not spoken anyway. Tony’s lips were on his and, honestly? Steve hadn’t really wanted any other response anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha! Finally got out this super lame final chapter with a super lame ending for my super lame Stony heart. The end sounded good in my head, but I just couldn't quite figure out how to write it, so don't really try to read it, just imagine it because that would be so cute!
> 
> Anyway, you can either imagine their relationship from this point forward or I can write an epilogue. Up to you. I'll probably leave the end epilogue kind of open to interpretation, too, though, because how do you end something without leaving it open to interpretation. I could kill a character and he could come back after. (Not going to do that in this one though.) They could get married and divorce, they could both die some tragic death. What happens after the story is entirely up to you, so don't ever let a story end on a bad note. Just change it.
> 
> Also thanks to those of you that read my useless ramblings. I know some of you do, for whatever bizarre reason, because of the comments you leave (goodness gracious, thank you so much). Therefore, I will give you the choice for what I work on next.
> 
> I've got:  
> -a bingo thing  
> -a soulmates thing  
> -a 5 times, 1 time thing  
> -a song book thing (I've got one down, but I'd probably work on All Time Low next (though if you want a song, I'll go for it))  
> -they keep meeting over and over and it goes wrong _every time_  
>  -or if you want me to try something, I most certainly can
> 
> I've got a few more that are minor that I'll probably just have going on the sidelines. Also, the song book I'll probably have on the back burner, even if you don't choose it because what's better than music and marvel? Absolutely nothing.
> 
> But yeah, if I don't write an epilogue for this sucker, then I hop you enjoyed the ride! See you again (maybe)!
> 
> Also, sorry for the long note, although I realize that by apologizing, I'm only making it longer. 
> 
> xxElizabeth


End file.
